staring at 39

I'm just one year away from 40. I suppose that's generally enough to cause anybody to take a sober pause and perhaps offer up a self evaluation of sorts. I'd have to confess this isn't exactly where I saw myself one year shy of 40.

I remember my Aunt Martha turning 40. there was a huge party and I remember she got a yellow remote controlled car and a robot arm I played with. My Mom and Dad rented a big lighted sign (like a mobile movie theater marquee) and put it in the front yard.  I remember thinking that hitting 40 seemed to be a pretty momentous occasion.

I feel like I've hit a few landmarks successfully; having been where I wanted to be at that particular stage of life.

15:  moped license - check
16: driver's license - check
17: rated "R" movie - check
18: buy a firearm - check
21: buy a pistol (and I guess a beer) - check
23: police officer - check
26: married - check

11:59 PM - 12/31/1999:  police officer, married, owned own house, making good money, surrounded by friends - check

30: had a kid - check.

I have to tell you, this is about where it stopped. I haven't really hit any of my own personal landmarks or goals in nine years. That's a pretty distressing thought, man.

Now, a few good things have emerged in the past nine years.

Friendships have strengthened.
I went through Pathways.
I went through Celebrate Recovery.
I got married again - that was a huge one for me, and my second marriage is better at three years than my first one was at this stage. Hell - at 2.5 I think my first one was pretty much over already.

I guess I figured that by 40 I'd have my own house. I wanted to be making over $50K a year by the time I reached 40. I wanted to have some more kids by now, too, and let's face it - I'm just not there on any of these things yet, and it's a bit discouraging.

Yeah - I have some hope and all that, but every so often it's hard not to get discouraged, especially when I just feel like I've been in a rut for the past three years (marriage notwithstanding). It's hard not to watch others succeed where you've failed and wonder how you can fix your life to more closely match theirs. I know it's a trap to hold yourself to the standards of others, but when you've fallen so short of your own standards so badly (which weren't really all that high, right?) it can be difficult not to wallow now and then.

I know I should speak vision and life and success, but at the moment I'm having a hard time girding myself up for it. It's not that I don't believe in what I'm doing (on a variety of levels) - I suppose it's that at the moment it's fairly easy to not believe in myself all that much. That's exactly the wrong answer on a few things and the complete opposite of a few other things I'm supposed to be doing, but if I'm ever to maintain my credibility with anybody (including myself) I'm going to have to be honest about that.

Don't get me wrong, OK? God works every time. Advocare works,  both financially and product wise; there's simply too much evidence to believes the contrary. Of these two things I have zero doubt, and unwavering faith, and I mean that. And my wife and daughter work, too - I just feel like tonight (and for the past few years)...well, me? Not so much with the "working", ya know?

 I don't have a whole lot of self confidence at the moment. I feel like I have a relatively long-standing pattern of failure behind me, and I'm struggling with breaking free of it.

Our family business (professional failure).
My first marriage (personal failure).
Relationship falling apart (personal failure)
Losing my house, my car and all my (and Toni's) money  (financial failure)
Selling cars (professional failure) - I still struggle with this one, asking myself if I gave up too easily.
Getting fired from the construction company (professional failure) - that one stung more than I let on.

So now, at 39, I'm making $9 hr, hoping to still have a job after the holidays are over, living with my parents and having to force myself to believe in things that seem impossible to achieve in my current circumstances,  and to have belief in things not yet seen.

And man - it's hard to do.

Yet I am, and I will, but with the single caveat that it's mostly because the only thing I know how to do in this circumstance is give up, and that seems like just another failure. I wish I could say it's just my plucky nature or my unshakable faith in the Almighty, but I think that once again (more than anything) it's because I don't know how to do anything else, and keeping the faith and clinging to my own professed belief system seems like a way to maintain some personal consistency in spite of my own personal doubts, and perhaps that's one small success that might lead to just one more.

Anyway, I think that's it. Have a cat.

This is to make up for my last blog, which was the most boring thing I've ever written.

Note: I actually wrote this about six weeks ago, but I've been sitting on it for a while because of it's nature. It's been re-written and edited, but the original content remains largely intact. The timing of the post has nothing whatsoever to do with anything or anybody.

Beware.

This is a scary, dangerous thing to talk about, because it brings to light a certain aspect of humanity that we don't really like to mention, I don't think. I'm going to bring it up anyway, and hope you folks either understand, forgive or choose to forget. But anyway, here goes.


Recently, the subject came up about how there are certain people that you are know you don't need to be alone with, specifically because part of you really wants to be alone with them, or that you are cognizant of the possibility (or even llikelihood) that you wouldn't have the necessary restraint to maintain the boundaries you'd like to. At the risk of putting too fine a point on it, you wouldn't say "no" even though you know you should.

I know I have people like this, individuals whom I'm keenly aware I wouldn't be able to resist under the right (or, in this case, wrong) circumstances. They have a vibe, magnetism, a draw, an electricity, a super-strong sexual undercurrent of some kind that hits me someplace that truthfully, I don't want to control enough to control. Therefore, I choose to consciously engage in a campaign of maintaining healthy boundaries, if not just outright avoidance, and a vigorous exercise of taking those thoughts captive, because if I don't I'll lose it, either by acting out or worse.

I'm not proud of this, by any means. I like to think I have the self-control enough to restrain myself, but I think that would just be my pride (ego) talking. Truth be told, I'm not that strong, so I simply choose to run away -. I don't know if it's cowardice or wisdom, but I'm going to choose to believe the latter.

Oddly enough, there's really no common denominator between them, other than I'm extremely attracted something about them at a very deep and primal level. I don't know if it's a pheromone they exude, a dysfunction my dysfunction is drawn to, a deep-set physiological stimulus or some other unidentifiable (perhaps subconscious) reason - I only know what I experience in their vicinity or if I let my thoughts wander.

Now, the interesting point I wanted to make was this - it's not just me; and it's not just guys. I know of at least two women who have described this same thing to me - the feeling that they know they'd give it up in heartbeat if the guy came on to them. And these aren't slutty club girls, either - these are demure, modest women who are by no means loose or even remotely promiscuous women; these are Godly, emotionally healthy, centered - and in some cases very happily married ladies who have a real and genuine walk with God. And yet they still experience the same "phenomenon", if that's the right word.

See, I figured it was limited to guys, until (either recently or a few years go) I heard a girl (in a moment of complete honesty) get real enough with me to tell me that she was once standing behind a guy in line and she realized that she knew she's have sex with the guy - and all he would have to do is ask. Now, here's the odd - yet for me, completely identifiable - part: She didn't know him, she'd never seen him before, and she never saw him again - but she still knew, and years later she remembers it. (Oh - she didn't sleep with him, by the way.)  She was unable to put her finger on exactly what or why the draw, that attraction existed, yet it was undeniable, powerful and almost overwhelming. Personally, I get it.

Now, part of me wonders if it's a demonic oppression or spirit of lust or something in the spiritual realm that has that kind of effect. Or maybe it's a biochemical olfactory reaction or something - I'll confess I don't really know. I just know it is.

So, this leads me to several questions, and before I go on - the answer is no- there's no way in hell I'm going to identify anybody. And no, I'm not going to further feed my already out-of-control ego and ponder who might have those feelings about me, because A) it doesn't matter, and B) because the number might be really small or non-existent, and I might find out I'm really not as sexy as I think I am. (I refuse to take an IQ test for the very same reason - I think I'm a certain level of smart, and I take a test and it turns out there's undeniable proof that I'm not as smart as I think I am, I'll just be devastated).

So my questions is this - do any of you cats out there experience what I've mentioned here? This will be a test of brutal honesty and retrospection that most of us don't dare to mention, but I have a working theory that I'm not alone in this. I suppose I just want to know is if it happens to any of your folks too, and if it does, is anybody out there open and brave enough to talk about it (behind a curtain of anonymity, of course), or at least acknowledge that a few of us aren't alone?

If any of you choose to answer, PLEASE do it anonymously. I killed the sitemeter so I can't track any responses, and for the record, I didn't try to figure out who anybody who responded on the fortune cookie post was.
Thoughts?

On buying a car....

Hey guys - there are a few things I wanted to share with you guys about what I've learned in the car business. When the time comes for you to get a car, these might help you out a bit.

OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER: I am not trying to sell you guys a car :-) Whatever car or dealership you end up choosing, all of this stuff will still apply. No pressure from me whatsoever, and I'll do everything I can to help you both when you guys are ready to buy, when or wherever that is :-)

OK....there are basically five factors in buyng a new (or used) car:

#1) The selling price of the car.

#2) The amount of cash you put down

#3) Your interest rate as determined by A) your credit score B) the length of the loan

#4) The length of the loan (3 years, 4, years, 5 years or 6 years)

#5) The amount of your trade-in

You can control precisely two of these; the amount of cash you put down, and how long the term of the loan is. You can negotiate a little on the rest, but ultimately you're at the mercy of the dealer.

The value of your trade is determined by how much it will sell for at an auto auction - this is called selling the car wholesale. This is determined by entering the information about your trade into a dealer-only auction site. If the dealer thinks he can sell the car for more money to a regular person, they may give you more money for your trade - this is called selling the car retail. The value of a trade is based on the condition of the car, the mileage, and various other factors such as popularity, market trends, etc. (For example, a large SUV with poor gas mileage may not fetch as much money as a small gas-saving sedan when gas is at $3.50 a gallon - stuff like that.) The value of your trade-in (which is called Actual Cash Value or ACV) has ZERO to do with how much money you owe on it - this upsets a lot of folks, but it's true.

You can get a very rough idea of the value of your trade by using NADA - you can go to www.nada.com and see what your car may be worth to a dealer or if you sell it yourself. people often choose to sell their car back to a dealer because the deal is a sure thing, and they don't have to endure the uncertainty of finding a buyer and negotiating a price themselves. The price between what the dealer will pay and what you could sell the car to an individual to will be different, but whether or not the extra money is worth the extra trouble is up to you. Kelly Blue Book (www.kbb.com) will also give you a number, but Texas doesn't use Kelly Blue Book as a standard, and it will be useless to mention Kelly Blue Book in the process.

Trade-in value is based largely on the CONDITION of the car. Before you bring your car in, do everything you can to make it look perfect. Wash, wax, clean the entire thing so it sparkles. Make it look as wonderful as possible. Clean cars trade better.

If you are upside down on your car (this means that you owe more on the car than what the car's market value is) I strongly urge you to keep driving it, at least until you have reached a break-even point, or, even better, actually have some equity built up in your vehicle. If you have a lot of negative equity in your vehicle, you will be forced to purchase a more expensive vehicle than can handle the extra cost that the debt you have on your vehicle adds to the price, and your payment will go up. If you have equity in your car (meaning that your car has value) it can be used as a trade-in and will actually lower the cost of the car you are buying.

Dealerships make money two ways - the "front" end and the "back" end. The front end is the amount of profit they make by selling it at a higher price then they bought it for. The "back" end is the money they make from finacing your car loan. The dealership may manipulate the numbers to move the money around to where it works out best for them and for you, and the dealership will always make money no matter what you do. For example, if they lower the sale price of the vehicle, they may have to adjust the interest rate of your loan to recover that cost. Or, conversely, if you hold your ground and insist on a very low interest rate, they may not discount the sale price quite as deeply.

Dealerships will generally have something called "add-ons", or extra features they add to the vehicle. This increases their profit to be sure, but lot of people balk and refuse them because they think they are getting ripped off in some way. True - the add-ons do increase the sale price to the vehicle, but they are generally offered as extra insurance to protect the car against damage. before rejecting the add-ons out of pocket, I recommend hearing about them and carefully weighing them to see if they have any value to you. For example, a one-time payment for $300 tire protection program may very easily pay for itself if you damage a tire, or worse, bend a rim. Weight these options carefully before rejecting them, especially on a new car.

Do a LOT of research on any vehicle you're looking at. Edmunds, Car and Driver, Cunsumer Reports - any resource you can get your hands on. The more informed you are, the better decision you can make. Test drive all the cars you are interested in. This will irritate the dealer to no end, but it's better to weigh out all your options and KNOW what you like (and don't like) before you make that large a decision. However, once you find a car you like enough to own, it's OK to stop looking. Be forewarned - the dealer does NOT want you to leave the store without buying a car, so be prepared to hold your ground when it's time for you to go. Always be 100% honest about the car - if you hate it, tell them, and then tell them why.

Have what you NEED in a car firmly in your mind before you start, and don't settle for less if it's a major thing. For example, if you NEED four doors, don't let them talk you into a coupe. Sometimes wants are more negotiable, and can be used in your favor when negotiating. For example, if you want a gray car buit they only have white, you may can force them to drive down the price a little by making that an issue (purchasing a car that's not the color you want.)

Do you guys have any questions about any of this?

Part 2 will be about the "negotiating" process.

The Context of Sandwiches

I've had a week or so to digest this - I don't think I've been entirely fair to sandwiches (collectively) as a food. I think I have a solid track record of fully embracing the burger, but for a time sandwiches and I had a tenuous past.

I have a relatively long-standing pococurantism regarding sandwiches. I think that it largely stems from a time when I was exposed to cold-cut sandwiches for several meals in a row in circumstances where I felt relatively powerless, and to that end I began to view sandwiches (or the eating thereof) as a mark of failure. Specifically, cold cuts on white bread. Or wheat.

Now, it wasn't always this way. When I was a kid I delighted in nothing more than a mound of pastrami adhered to two slices of Iron Kids with a coating of French's yellow. It was Glory, man. I also ate thousands of peanut butter variants, beginning with grape jelly, then slowly migrating to honey or strawberry preserves as a youngster. Later on, especially in high school. my buddy Kent and I would skip lunch to come home and fry of some bologna and eat it with a little mayo. And of course, the simple bacon sandwich (with just enough MiracleWwhip to keep it from being dry) will always have a place in my heart.

My mother began the trend, of course, and to this day I witness her creations as a softer, more refined version, with turkey or deli-sliced ham, served with lettuce and tomato and properly cut before serving, a healthier, more tasteful, more feminine and more tasteful arrangement.

Now my father is a legendary sandwich eater, though of a more exotic variety. I have personally seen him eat culinary delections of an appalling nature, at least to me; among them, a peanut butter, mayonnaise and lettuce Creation. However, at the end of the spectrum, he does enjoy a nice, thick smoked ham (not the thin sliced deli fabrication) but the thick carved sliced removed from the bone itself, liberally treated with mayo, perhaps with cheese, possibly with chips, and probably with a nice cold beer. Well done, sir. Of these people my sandwich lineage was founded

Later still, I remember my dad making us ham and cheese sandwiches when we would go play paintball, and I ate these sandwiches with the knowledge that my Dad loved me and cared enough about me to make sure I had lunch, even at 20. What would have ordinarily been a standard sandwich became a kingly meal for a valiant fighting man, and my chest swelled with pride while eating it.

I also learned about the French Dip sandwich and a Hot Ham &Cheese from Memories - a Finer Diner during this time, and even had a chicken-fried steak creation or two from Sonic now and again. I also dabbled in a multi-decked peanut butter and jam creation, accompanied by Lay's originals and massive glasses of frosty cold chocolate milk, and once ruined by my cat Inky when when brought in a live dove, who promptly shed distressed feathers all over my sandwich before being immediately Nolan Ryan'd out of the kitchen by my mother in a surprising display of athletic prowess. The club sandwich came into vogue as well during this time, and I ate them with abandon when surrounded by french fries and a cold soda, especially with my friend Tara.

Still later, while studying at WBU, I found I enjoyed the meatball sub at Subway, but this would be the beginning of the decline.

Then came the summer of 2001, and the sandwich was ruined. And again in the winter of 2002, when they were again foisted upon me. I began to rebel against my roots, turning my nose up at sandwiches. I was haughty - they were gauche, and if I had to be someplace against my will in a situation I couldn't control and didn't like with people whom I felt had no regard for my wants and needs I surely was not going to eat their sandwiches. And the die was cast.

I avoided sandwiches in their entirety until 2005, resenting the sandwich and all it stood for: failure, loss of control, helplessness, a symbol of forced submission, and tastelessness.

I eventually began dating again, and I would discover a love for a previously uninvestigated wonder - the shrimp and bacon Po-Boy from Sweetwater's in Denton. This opened the gate for another relationship, and another sandwich vendor - Jason;s Deli, a place I had previously striven to avoid. It was there the ice would begin to melt a but under the warm, salty, juicy weight of the Beefeater and the Hot Pastrami, served alongside a bowl or red beans and rice. It would be the summer and fall of 2005 that would again lay the foundation for the return of the sandwich. Yet when the relationship ended, so did my ability to eat at Jason's - for quite a long time.

Still, I could not, would not eat a sandwich unless it was a necessity, or I was trying to impress a girl, or at least avoid a fight. I ate peanut butter, but grudgingly, and avoided all cold cuts except in moments of self-flagellation, when I would eat them as a means of punishing myself, generally for failing to make enough money. They were again a food non grata, a penance for failure.

Perhaps later, almost inevitably, it would be in the company of a girl that I would venture to eat cold-cut sandwiches once again, though not with ham - only roast beef and turkey combined. White or wheat, it would be in her company that the nprevu\iously reprehensible food would become again palatable, this furthering sealing the gap between me and the despised structure of carbs and protein.

Though the years passed, I began to prepare sandwiches for others; grilled cheese for my daughter, occasionally a hot ham and cheese for myself. I came to realize that I could eat a hot sandwich well enough. For some reason that wasn't so reprehensible, perhaps because on some level, they reminded me of a time when my life had not grown so difficult.

Then one day I saw a documentary called "Sandwiches You Will Like" on PBS - Toni and I watched it on what would have been an otherwise hopeless and miserable 4th of July for me, and sandwiches began to show a resurgence of hope.

In an attempt to regain control of some lost part of my psyche, I began to occasionally to try different sandwiches when the mood was right, a Louisiana Po-Boy here, an odd return to Jason's deli there, until one day, I was extended an offer to go to a Chicago style deli with some friends of mine.

Iit was a complete disaster for me personally - truth be told, I was ill-equipped and unprepared to eat these sandwiches, and I really didn't even like them all that much, but the fact I was wanted and invited and loved more than made up for a sandwich I wouldn't eat again unless I had to. I went back a second time, still hating the sandwiches but loving the camaraderie, and I think the tenuous hold began to slip for real.

A few weeks ago my managers brought in piles of cold cuts from Costco for lunch - I made two sandwiches, on of them piled at least three inches high with pastrami, ham, turkey, and chicken, treated with spicy brown mustard and held in place between two slices of Iron Kids atop a mound of Cool ranch Doritos. And man - it was delicious.

You know what, though? I think the best part of it was that it was MY decision to make my own sandwich, and that I;m finally (again) at a point in my life where I can eat one and not allow it to make me feel like a failure.

Or maybe it was just a really good sandwich. Just the good ones, though.


Either way, I'm OK with sandwiches again.

So today I had $16 that we weren't really using for anything, so I figured I'd treat myself to some Panda Express. I haven't had Panda Express in several months, and as my wife kind of hates Panda Express I figured today was a nice opportunity to get some. So, I cut loose one of the sport coupes (the turbo version that I have adjusted specifically to me, including all the radio presets) and got lunch. Orange chicken, beef with broccoli, fried rice, and an egg roll (all delicious) - and a fortune cookie that said "You savor the challenge of satisfying your high goals."

O' Fortune Cookie - you don't know me at all. To quote one of my favorite "friends" episodes - "You could not be more wrong. You could try, but you would not be successful".

Now, it should have sid "You will inwardly complain until you achieve your high goals." Now THAT's a pretty accurate fortune,and that led me to wonder what a fortune cookie might tell me it if really knew me. I think it might say things like ....

Hey jackass - pay more attention to your wife.

You need to brush your teeth more often.

You should probably do something about your diet. Also - start running again.

You are nowhere near as funny s you think you are.

Then I got started thinking about what it might say to others.....

Hey you - you're too fat. Quit eating crap.

Guess what? Your son is gay.

The world does not revolve around you, lady.

You need to grow the !@#K up.

Don't give up, man - God has a plan for you, and it's awesome.

Buddy, if you keep that shit up, your wife is going to leave you.

You take yourself WAY too seriously, chief.

You are a great mom.

People are lucky to have you as a friend.

You are well on your way to being the crazy old cat lady - sans the cats.

He loves you more than you will ever know.

So....the rules apply to everybody else but you?

You would be a lot more likeable if you would just shut up for a few days.

Quit going to happy hour, get your ass back home and raise your kid.

Sweetie, that guy is a creep. He's been a creep, and he's probably going to stay a creep. How many times does he need to prove it to you?

Please stop devaluing yourself by training people how to treat you badly.

You deserve a lot better, and you can do a lot better. Don't settle.

Your son attributes everything he is to you.

You are waaaay too pushy.

You have an alcohol problem.

Quit being mad at your ex-husband - you're only hurting yourself at this point.

No matter how you try, you can't control everything.

You would have to get better to be crazy.

You will never, ever get better until you start taking a deep, hard look at yourself.

Your life is everybody else's fault but yours, huh?

For the love of God - go wash your feet.

In America, we wear deodorant.

God hasn't given up on you, man - and neither have I.

So....to make a parlor game out of this (for the very few of you that still read), what would you guys like to see a fortune cookie say? (Either to yourself, or to somebody else, no specification necessary. Post anynymously if you want, and I give you guys my word nobody will try to figure out who it was.

OK......*I* won't try. I might wonder, though. Thanks, guys!

Observations on Disney, floating, dreams and fiber.



Our trip to Disney was great. We had a wonderful time together, and I think we had some good, teachable moments with our daughter. We were able to work on facing our fears, not panicking, not throwing a fit, being respectful of others, not complaining, being patient and communicating - all skills I (still) need to work on myself. It was a delightful and exhausting vacation – one that was sorely needed. Next time I think we’ll stay a bit longer and take a slower pace, but the trip itself was such a huge blessing to our family, and you guys can thank Toni for making it happen. ‘Cause she’s awesome.

A few observations on Disney…..

There’s just no experience like Disneyworld, man – it’s an all-encompassing empire unto itself, and it’s done very, very well.

Nobody has better marketing, cross-promotion, product placement, branding , packaging and the general overall ability to separate you from your money like Disney. It’s astounding.

No matter how carefully you plan, Disney is expensive - it just is. If they can mark it up, they will.

Disney’s meal plans are a lifesaver, and saved us a lot of money. The only downside is that I simply can’t eat that much food anymore, though I did my best. Overall, the food is great – I didn’t have a single bad meal the entire time, and I still had a few places I wanted to try. Our friends recommended some great places to eat, and we’re glad we listened.

Brazilian tour groups love Disney. We saw no fewer than six huge different groups, and they seemed to be having a good time. Also, Brazilians dress differently than Americans, especially in large groups, and their group leaders carry tall, triangular flags when they travel.

There are a lot of morbidly obese people than I thought, and I think that most of them are the result of years of systematically pouring a steady diet of crap into their bodies. You can blame genetics, but only to the extent that you’re unwilling to quit drinking sodas, eating McDonalds and refusing to exercise.

I think a lot of folks rent an electric scooters because they’re just plain lazy. I don’t think that many folks have outwardly unidentifiable ailments that prevent them from walking. Personally, I think walking around Disney would do a lot of them some good.

I don’t think you should put your kid on a leash if you can possibly avoid it.

I’m glad I didn’t carry a backpack, fanny pack, wear a big hat, or do all three in conjunction.

I think I’m a bigger fan of taking your kid when they’re older than younger. I saw a passel of little kids that looked just plain miserable in the happiest place on earth, and they looked happier than their parents.

The shows at Disney are masterful, and the rides are just a blast to experience, even as an adult.

The Fast Pass (which allows you skip long lines) is one of the Greatest Things Ever.

I still love the disposable camera. I have a few pics I’ll post as well, because now they put the pics on a CD for you when you get your film developed.

You can never drink too much water. Florida is hot, but not as bad as Texas.

I need to take vacations a little more seriously, man – I think I need to learn to relax more. Did you guys know that I can’t float in a swimming pool? I sink like a stone because I’m too tense – even at Disney I can’t relax enough to float. I’ve tried to float several times, but I just can’t seem to do it. I don’t know I it’s the water on my face that causes me to panic or what, but I can’t make myself relax enough to float. I don’t know what to do with that.

I run into a lot of odd folks at work. I mean, odd folks need cars too, but every so often I can't help myself. I got this gem from a (potential) customer I was working with online. it said:

"sorry i dont drive in dallas area . going to a local dealer hear of which can deliver . thanks."

Accordingly, I made this entry into our database.

"This ever-so-slightly inarticulate customer doesn't want to actually come to the dealership, either to select, purchase or to otherwise fill out any paperwork that would result in actual ownership, but wants us to deliver a car to her (or him, as the customer's gender remains unspecified.) Apparently, our dealership is located amidst some kind of Forbidden Zone in which the customer refuses to operate any type of motor vehicle for reasons known only to them. Why they chose to contact a dealership in the Forbidden Zone is beyond me."

What else? I still have a dream from last night I’m trying to shake off. It wasn’t a nightmare or anything, just something I’d rather have not made the transition from dreamworld to something I actually retained after I woke up. Does this happen to anybody else? It generally goes away after about 12-24 hours, but it’s troublesome until then, and even if I try to pray it out it still sticks to my mind like hot tar. Truthfully, it re-opens an old wound every time; and while it simultaneously hurts and pleases, I wonder where the impetus came from. Am I being attacked in my sleep? Is there a spiritual door open somewhere that needs to be closed? Is it just some remnant from my subconscious that working itself out, or is it just a bunch of random crap with no real meaning being processed by some part of my brain that humanity can’t possibly hope to comprehend, understand or fix? I’m going to go with the latter, because truthfully, that one makes the most sense to me.

One more thing to add, since it managed to make itself an issue today, and that's the unfairness, lack of respect and disregard for your well being that your emotions can demonstrate. I was fine last night. This morning? A bad dream associated with based on some unforseen latent sense of loss (I guess?) hits me just before I wake up, lingers all day on the fringe of my concious mind and my entire Wednesday just goes off track. My resulting gripe is, of course, multifaceted:

A) I didn't ask for it
B) I'm not focusing on the topic, and yet the element from the dream still reappears unbidden
C) There's little (if any) sense of reality tied into this whole fiasco
D) I no longer have any sense as to why I'm still dealing with this particular issue
E) I have no idea how on earth something can tantalize and hurt like hell at the same time. That's just cruel.

What else? I sure like having enough fiber in my diet, man. Does that make me old, healthy, or just another degree of weird? Too many good things happen when you’re eating enough fiber to not mention it.

To that bizarre end, I shall close. Thanks for reading, guys.

Today's compendium of stuff I'm think runs the gambit, I guess. in no particular order....

The Casey Anthony Trial

Justice was denied in our court systems, I think. Fortunately, justice can take many forms, and God keeps score. While I like that God has purged my sins from His book and has shown me mercy and grace, my humanity hopes that He takes a special interest in Ms. Anthony, and that the last little gasps her daughter fought for are in every breath she takes until her dying day, and that the innocent blood she shed is paid back tenfold. To her dying day, Casey Anthony will be scorned, despised, ostracized and reviled by every face the sees, and in every eye that casts its fleeting gaze upon her.

Graveyards

I don't ever recall visiting a graveyard to see where the remains of a loved one dwell. I've attended several graveside memorials and been present when the remains are interred, but I don't think  I've ever gone back to visit. My Dad doesn't do viewings, and I don't blame him a bit. As of late, I don't think we view death properly as a culture. The closest thing I've seen was my Aunt Martha's memorial, and if I remember correctly, it was basically a lot of relatives gathering and telling all the great things about her before we played "When the Saints go Marching In" and danced out of the chapel. No viewing. No prolonged funeral. Nothing left unsaid before she passed, I don't think - at least not by me. this led me to think that if we did a better job of communicating then we would live life with fewer regrets; we might be better off not having things left unsaid, and we might have to visit  cemeteries less often to clean our consciences and ease our hearts. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'd rather live my life in such a way that there wouldn't ever be anything I wish I'd said before a loved one slipped away. And I don't like funerals anyway -I think they're morbid, and the dead folks could care less. I think it's easy for us to forget that what we see at funerals are just the earthly remains of the cage that held a soul and a spirit, and that if given the choice, they wouldn't want to come back. I think funerals are for the living, and borne more out of culture and a sense of guilt and obligation than they ought to be. Anyway, food for thought, I guess. 

Car Stuff

If you aren't buying a car within a week, please stay off the car lot. If you visit a car lot and don't ultimately buy a car, you are wasting the salesman's time, no matter what he tells you. We are not a place for you to play with the expensive toys - we're trying to work here.

 Therapy

Counseling is going pretty well. We're going both as individuals and as a couple, which is good. We're uncovering some fairly unhealthy habits we've fallen into and are realizing that it's not necessarily our fault we've ended up where we are. We're both working hard to build a more solid foundation so that our marriage is more stable, and that's good for everybody.

What I'm not saying in therapy

I feel like my otherwise solid grip on my sobriety is slipping a bit and I don't know why. I haven't acted out, but the thought has crossed my mind a few times in the past few weeks. It's nothing I can pin down or isolate, really. I guess it's like an alcoholic wanting just one beer every once in a while, but not really knowing why. I'm sure it has something to do with my long string of broken relationships and resulting soul ties. I don't want any of those relationships back, and I don't want to re-claim those soul ties, I guess there's something in me someplace that grew used to seeing the equivalent of kite strings flying, and now and again I miss seeing the where the strings in the air used to be even when the kites are long gone. I know it sounds stupid and that it makes zero sense, but it leaves me with an odd sense of sadness I can't explain but that robs my wife of something, some joy I should be sharing with her. So I play sad music and try to get to the bottom of it, but all I end up with is a vague sense of heartache that's not even tied to one particular person anymore. Maybe something in me misses that giddy "falling-in-love" feeling I've had before, but simultaneously knowing it's unstable and unreliable, unsafe and unpredictable, and doesn't tend to last - but something in me still drawn to that sometimes, no matter how unhealthy it may be, no matter what the consequences are. I guess that's the conflict, huh? Knowing I'll never desert my commitment and my covenant, knowing how much I love my wife, but having the knowledge that there's always a part of me that wants (or thinks it wants) the lie that is what it is, whatever it is. Maybe that's it, or maybe I'm just tired, or maybe Nora Jones just makes me feel melancholy.

I remember when my friend Brian and his wife C got married they danced to a Nora Jones song "Come Away with Me" at their wedding. That song means something to me but I can't nail it down - I just know it affects me in a way that aches and feels warm and golden at the same time; I think it's tied to a sense of loss somehow, as many of the best songs are. I'm sure it's reflective of a particular time in my life I still haven't fully recovered from, or maybe the song is just that good

What I ate today

Marshmallows, peanut butter, Hershey's chocolate, McDonalds and then nine hours later I had three pieces of pizza. The worst part is that when I got McDonalds today, I got onto Toni for eating my fries, then when I arrived at work and opened the to-go bag, I saw they had given more fries than I  could eat, and so I got onto her for nothing. I felt like a jerk.

New Gun

I got the first piece of my new gun a week or so ago. It felt good to start in on getting it back again, and to build one from the ground up, custom-fit to me & Toni. It's a LOT like building a paintball gun, only slightly more expensive, and these shoot a lot further.

Anyway, that's it, I think. I just wanted to wait until I had something to say. Thank you guys for reading.

Tales from Sales - Part I

After four weeks of correspondence through phone calls and e-mail, this customer finally made an appointment to come to return to the dealership and evaluate a car. My notes from the experience read accordingly.

He simply could not decide on a car. The primary factor that seems to be whether or not his wife will become car sick while riding in the vehicle, and this appears to be largely contingent upon the size of the dashboard and the angle of the windshield. Of course, his wife could not be persuaded to attend the appointment, nor be otherwise present to actually offer any input, thereby leaving both of at somewhat of a disadvantage. I offered a test drive several times so that he could more accurately asses the various features of the car not related to the potential nausea his spouse may experience, but he advises that that all other considerations are secondary to how sick his wife may or may not get.

After learning that we did not have a 2010 model year of his specified vehicle on the lot, he proclaimed that that he would like to purchase a 2010 model of this particular car, but we have none in stock. Of course, had he chosen to actually purchase the car six weeks ago, he would have been able to select from a variety of colors and trim levels, but alas - he who hesitates is stuck buying from dealer inventory. I am uncertain if this was some sort of negotiation tactic, but if so it is of dubious efficiency.

He also expressed interest in an 2011 Limited trim package with cloth seats, and/or a  2011 GLS preferred package with fog lights and a sunroof. Unfortunately, neither of these options are compatible trim packages and therefore do not exist, thereby greatly reducing his purchasing options and placing him  at a further disadvantage. I briefly considered expounding upon the issues particular to cleaning both cloth and leather seats, but thought better of it.

After spending no less than half an hour in the blazing hot parking lot explaining to me (in great detail) the subtleties and nuances of each vehicle he had considered, including the one that we do not have, cannot get and are therefore incapable of selling to him, it became evident to me that I can offer him no assistance whatsoever, as he had absolutely no questions about any vehicle on the lot, didn't want to test drive, discuss financing, or otherwise engage in any activities pursuant to actually purchasing a vehicle.

Ostensibly he'll be getting back to me when he determines his wife's proclivity to motion sickness relative to surface area,  geometry and general overall angles of visibility respective to the interior of said vehicles.

I swear - I am not making this up.

Have an owl.

I think that's a new record

I haven't gone THAT long without blogging in years, I don't think. But now (finally) I'm only working closer to 50 hours a week than 70, and lo and behold -  I have a few hours.

I shall begin with some perceptions regarding work, and the car selling business in general from the perspective of the salesman. The most notable one is this: people will unwillingly, unflinching & very vocally demand honesty & respect from car salesmen, but are only too willing to be dishonest & profoundly disrespectful to me. You might be astonished at how often *I* am flat-out lied to. Now, while I understand they are lying out of a sense of fear and, to a lesser extent, a sense of financial self-preservation, it doesn't make it right. Additionally, a disturbingly large proportion have no qualms whatsoever about coming in, spending an hour or two (or three, or four) not only allowing, but demanding my utmost service, honesty, respect and and then not only returning my efforts with lies, rudeness or outright hostility, but ultimately deciding it's perfectly acceptable to respond with anger when I have the audacity to inquire - in any way - about their intentions, ability, or desire to actually purchase a vehicle. Would you go into McDonalds, demand to know how much everything on the menu costs, why it's better than Burger King, and then get mad if the poor guy behind the counter asks you if you actually want to but a burger today? Of course not - but Lordy, Lordy, folks will do the same thing at a car dealership in a heartbeat. You know what, though? I  have found that despite all of this, I really like selling cars, and those misguided folks aren't going to rob me of my joy.

On a more personal note, I played a double-header of softball yesterday and had a great time. I even ended up scraping my knee, which is a sign that you actually played, and akin to coming home after a day of paintball with paint actually on you. Let's face it - if you went and played a day of paintball and returned home in pristine condition, it might be a safe assumption you didn't really invest yourself in the game. However, if you come home covered in sweat, dirt, welts and stinking so badly the staff at The Cotton Patch seats you in the back so that you won't offend the other customers, then you can count the day a success, even if you didn't score a point. Man.....I miss paintball.

The temptation to actually buy a new paintball gun and pick it back up again is fairly strong, as is the notion I need to rebuild my gun collection again. It's funny how after being in such terrible and dire financial straits for so long my first temptation isn't to rebuild myself and my family into a more financially secure stronghold, but to replace the things I've been forced to part with along the way. I'm sure some of that is human nature, though I'm sure a large part of that is a sense of restoring myself in a way; to reassure myself that it's OK for me to do something for ME. I have to confess that's been a struggle for me; I think I've had a sense that's it's OK to sacrifice yourself until you have nothing left, but that it's not OK to pour anything back into yourself. I'm glad the First Rule of Pathways is this: Take care of yourself so that you can take care of others. I still have to find that happy medium again.

For the record, though, we're looking at four acres instead of two, so that I can have two things in my back yard - #1) a small shooting range #2) a paintball field so my friends and I can play for free on a field of our own design. I'm looking forward to having those things.

What else? I ran on of Celexa on last Wednesday, and the doctor's office has been a bit pokey about getting it refilled. Aside from an overwhelming urge to grind my teeth accompanied by a bit of lightheadedness, vertigo and a slightly distressing emotional lability, it hasn't been that bad. Oddly enough, playing two games of softball helped, as did chasing it with a cayenne Monster from Freebirds. I think Freebirds makes everything better. I think Freebirds ( a burrito place, for those of you who don't already know) was a staple of our after-paintball outings for years, far surpassing the Hooters experience of 1992.

I have a few new pics for you guys - this one was over the weekend. It's similar to one from years ago I really liked, and I figure it bears posting.

As usual, I feel like I have a lot less to say when I'm not engaging in the documentation of some kind of personal trauma, but let's face it - everything is going pretty well with me, and that's what this blog is about. About the only complaints I have is the house being a bit warm at the moment, and my knee hurts a little, and I need to figure out a way to keep it from sticking to my pants at work.

Today's musical offering is a something called "Return of the Tres" from a band called Delinquent Habits. I make no offer that it's in any way edifying, and it makes me wish I was a Mexican so I could be cool enough to sing along with it. I hereby dedicate it to My Favorite Mexican  - you know who you are, chica. In the event it's offensive, I'm sorry. Mi espanol is muy mal. It's catchy as anything, though. Bask in the Mexicanness of the hip-hop. Bask, I say!



Play it loud and inflict the 90's upon others.

Ok - see you guys (much sooner than) later.

Have a Godzilla.

Also this cat.

And a lizard, because it's been such a long time.

I think Facebook and Twitter have ruined blogging, man. Also working a lot. And not really wallowing in despair, loss or a failed relationship. These are blog-killing things. On a related note, I think my next tattoo will be "SAINT" - it speaks to my identity in Christ, as well as a reminder of how I need to act, think and otherwise love on other people. Coming this fall, eh? 

Ok - I gotta eat, and Mom made bacon during the time she wasn't lurking over my shoulder to see what I was writing. HAH - thought I didn't notice, huh? WRONG! I saw you there, trying to steal a glance, watching, reading. But you made bacon, so I shall let it pass.

See you guys soon - thank you again for stopping by. If you're not my friend on Fcebook, become one, as that's generally how I notify you guys I wrote something. It'll spare you from feeling like you have to check back so often. It seems abit cruel to either never update or never let you cats know when i do. And pass the updates on to whomever might be interested, too.

Ok - really stopping now.

Shootin' stars & sellin' cars

I just picked the name 'cause it sounded cool, like a country song. I don't know a lot about starts, and I haven't shot anything in a while, but if you hear Hayes Carll's voice in your head I did a good job selecting the words. You can hear him sing HERE -  it's pretty good stuff. I feel like I can relate to it.

But man - I do like selling cars. I can only hope to be as cool as this guy one day.

Personally, I'm looking forward to saying my first "What can I do to get you in this car today?" If I can rip off a grandmother, a single mom, and a pastor I'll have the trifecta nailed down.

I like talking to people - I really do. I like helping 'em find a car they love; not just any car, but the right car. It helps to believe 100% in your product, too. I did manage to get nasty sunburn on my forehead on Saturday, and now I'm peeling like a bananna. They're going to let me wear my cowboy hat tomorrow - we'll see how that works out. It is Texas, after all. Failing that, I might get a golf hat. Or possibly a fedora or a porkpie hat. Personally, I'd like a sombrero, but that may demean the professional appearance a bit. I need to try to maintain it, as I've picked out a car I want already. Unfortunately, it's not in the cards for at least a year, so c'est le vie Sonata 2.0T Limited.

I am learning this - there is a tremendous amount of money in the sales industry, especially in cars. I have to confess that making a bundle sounds pretty good to me. Fortunately, I work for an organization that values integrity and honesty above all else. This was a huge relief to me, man. What's an equal relief was to see them enforce it with extreme prejudice. Apparently, it's a far better financial practice to not lie, cheat and steal. You'd think it would be the opposite with a car dealership, but I was pleseantly surprised to see how much it's the opposite situation entirely.

What's been up the past two weeks? Not much, save a little aggravation from my ex-wife. As tempting as it is to vent here, it'd be bad form, and would accomplsh nothing. I will say this, and take whatever heat I get.

We're going to Disney in July. We're taking our daughter for a few days. I haven't had a real vacation in 9 years that was 100% peaceful for more than 36 hours. Toni had funds in a retirement account from an old job that was growing, well....badly. We opted to use the money to eliminate a lot of debt, and to take a family vacation, as our daughter is only nine once. Sue me for not taking every penny and spending it on debt, but our bills will still be here when we get back, and we'll have great and happy memories that last a lifetime. I regret nothing, nor will I.

No softball - Mother's Day and Easter weekend have taken their toll on Sunday sporting excursions. We have a game on Sunday, though - I'm looking forward to it. I like being able to move with any degree of athleticism again.

I did another cleanse, which always leaves me feeling energized and slightly lighter. Toni and I have been running fairly regularly, and I'm looking and feeling a lot more toned. Unfortunately, they feed us very well at work, especially on Saturday, and it gets hard to stand firm with resolute resolve in the face of Dickey's BBQ, particularly if they are serving mac and cheese with it. Running burns a lot of it off, though. I still have about 20 lbs left to go - I'll post pics when I hit another goal: 197 lbs.

I've started reading again, which has been nice. I need to go to Half-Price Books again and score a new batch of paperbacks. It's been nice having no TV, but Mom finally broke down and got her Verizon FIOS on, as long periods without Fox News and the Hallmark Channel proved to be more strain than she could bear. I don't like having a TV in the house, as I know there's porn on late, and I enjoyed having the temptation completely removed, but you can't always get what you want, especially if it's not your house.

I had to rearrange my counseling sessions a bit to accomodate work; so far it's been the only real inconvenience, other than the minor irritation of having massive chunks of my time torn from my daughter and wife. Car salesmen don't get to spend as much time with their families as they'd like, apparently, at least not starting out. Unfortunately, I kind of need the money that only a sales job seems to offer, and while I've been spoiled with having a surplus of time with my family, I think the time to pay the theorhetical piper has come.

(I can't get the spell-check to work, by the way, so any egregious errors are doublessly being enhanced.)

A few nights ago I had a little meltdown in the car on the way home when I realized how many Saturdays I was going to miss with my daughter. It sucks, man, but I have to be responsible, man up, and do what I have to do. I can chalk some of it up no having missed my anti-depressants for at least two days, but it's a sobering thought nonetheless. Fortunately, the next day was Sunday, and I got I think I got a word from God. I usually do when I go to church, as it tends to work that way.

I've been praying for so long to get a good paying job, and I finally have one - no doubt about that, man. That's totally a God thing, too - I would have never made the decision to do this on my own. I mean, let's face it - who grows up and says "I wanna be a car salesman?"

Nobody, man - I know that. We all know that. Even the car salesmen know it.


But God has a sense of humor, and he las little interest in what *I* think I want; He has far more interest in growing me. And he put it on my heart to really think about why I was doing what I was doing; about why I have a percieved need to make money, and what I'll be doing with it. At the end of the day, it came down to this: all I want is anough to pay my debts, provide for my family, and He can have the rest of it.

Now, I'm still human - I do want my M4 back and a few things for Toni, but I don't want or need a HUGE house, fancy cars, swimmin' pools, movie stars or box seats at Cowboy Stadium. (I'm willing to take some decent seat at a Ranger gane, though.). Truthfully, I'd rather use any overflow of money to give to others in financial need, or spiritual need; to give so that others can have counseling, clean water, food, blankets, and whatever freedom they can find. I think that's a motivation that God can get behind a bit more than greed -  at least I hope so.

I'm praying at the start of each day that God will lead me and use me, and guide my steps. It's Step 3 all over again, every day, and I have a lot more pece then I expected about it.

And it's not a question of God getting behind me - don't get me wrong there. More, it's a question I'm trying to ask myself: what would Jesus do with the money, and prayerfully proceed each day and try to do that, as best I can. I hope Jesus would like an M4 and an occassional dinner at Babe's, and if God lives in each and every one of His children, I hope He likes BBQ on Saturdays, 'cause that's what He's getting.

In closing, have some of the glory that is Ma$e. There is nothing edifying, spiritual, or really even redeeming about this, other than it's catchy and fun. It's a trip back to 1998; harkening back to days I was a bouncer at the Groovy Mule, feeling cool. The best comment, for those of you not familiar with YouTube, is this:

I pump this @#$% loud in my car and I impose the 90s upon this misguided world of today

Well said, my brother. Have some 90's hip-hop.

On emasculation

So this is the second round of stuff my therapist has asked me to write about. The first section was kind of raw, so I opted not to publish it. To be fair, I was in a bad mood when I wrote it, so it’s a little darker than I normally feel day-to-day. Maybe one of these days I’ll edit it down but leave out the less savory (or more savory, I guess) parts so it’s less objectionable. It’s not that I’m ashamed of what I wrote; I just hate to think I think that way, even if it’s only on occasion. I guess we all have our dark days, huh? It’s just that most of us don’t document it quite so meticulously.

This is actually a continuation on my therapist’s homework; which is stuff I have to do during the week when I’m not in the office. I think it gives me something to think about, which is nice. I like having something to think about that I find purposeful. I feel like I’ve spent the last several years thinking about things I shouldn’t be or thinking about fairly vapid and pointless mental exercises to keep me from thinking about those things, with periods of deeper pondering someplace along the way. I suppose that’s why I’ve blogged so much less frequently these past few months – I haven’t really had a whole lot to say, because I haven’t really been thinking; just existing.

So anyway, my homework for last week was a two-parter:

A) Identify life experiences, treatment, behaviors or things spoken over you by others that have made you feel emasculated.

B) How did you respond to that person or experience? How did you deal with your feelings? (grit your teeth & take it, swallow it & let it out later)

And this week’s homework: Write about part 2 of last week’s home work.

So let’s get it all out then, shall we? I feel like I’ll do a better job of it if I just write all of it from the get-go. Let’s begin.

Part A: Stuff that made me feel emasculated

1) My (first) wife leaving

That’ll take it out of you.

2) Her friend smirking as my (first) wife told me she was leaving

I never knew how much that two-second encounter hurt and bothered me; I remember it so very clearly, I remember every line and curve of her friend’s otherwise beautiful face, and I remember loud and clear the message it conveyed:

“You have lost the greatest thing you’ll ever have. You aren’t good enough. You’re not smart enough. You’re not successful enough. You’re not attractive enough. You’re not enough of a man to meet her needs. You are a fool. You are a loser. You aren’t worth of pity – you are trash to be disregarded, and you will never, ever amount to anything more.”

All this, with one sneer, in passing, on December 26th, 2003.

3) Being relentlessly bullied in grade school

I still know the names.

4) Being relentlessly bullied in junior high school

I still know the names.

5) Being picked on as a freshman and a sophomore in high school

I still know the names.

6) Being singled out & made fun in front of the entire band (by my director) in high school

I still know his name. Also, kind of where he lives. And which bike trails he rides on. And that he doesn't wear a helmet.

7) Having my (first) wife say mean things about me in front of large groups of people

Also, having her flirt shamelessly with other guys in front of me didn’t help either. I remember once she said (at a Halloween party, with our closest friends in attendance –while dressed provocatively in a short, tight Catholic schoolgirl outfit) that she wished she had a husband that other girls would be interested in flirting with. I told myself it was the wine she was drinking, but let’s face it – it was beyond devastating. I can still feel how hot my face became when she said that, and I can still feel that shame and embarrassment.

8) Losing my car to repossession

Not once, but three times. And I lost my wife’s car - twice.

9) Losing my house

That house represented a hope and a future, man – it was supposed to be the place I (and my wife) filled with kids, love, and family stuff. Those dreams? Gone.

10) Being evicted from our apartment

Less than 60 days after my wedding to my current wife, too. Merry Christmas - get out.

11) Having to move back into my parent’s house

Yay. I'm a little boy again - can I get a sucker and a diaper change ?

12) Having to sell things I loved and worked hard to get (my rifle & my Bronco)

Those things hurt to lose because they were mine, ya know? When I had to sell those things – for survival money – it was just one more instance of where I lost again; another instance where I didn’t get that I wanted after all; yet more proof I just can't win.

13) Not being able to take care of my wife and daughter financially

I don’t know much else that erodes your masculinity like this, man.

14) Having to give up my visitation days because I couldn’t feed my daughter

Hey - I found something after all!
15) Being completely and totally financially destroyed after doing your best

Fail.

16) Having to completely humble myself in 12-step recovery for my addiction

Dig up the most embarrassing, humiliating and shameful things you’ve ever done - the things you said you’d take to the grave with you. Now – tell them.

17) Having to apply for food stamps

Hey- you smell that? It’s me – I smell like poverty. Or it's the rotting corpse of my pride.


So - there's Part A.
Part B: How did I respond?

Yeah – I grit my teeth and took it, man. I swallowed my pride, my anger, my innate desire to stick up for myself, my dignity and my self-respect. I “let it go” - isn’t that what good Christians did? Forgive others? Turn the other cheek? Love thine enemies? Show them kindness and heap burning coals upon their heads?

Or, in the case of my wife, love her sacrificially, as Christ loved the church? Loving her in spite of everything she did, anxiously awaiting the day the prodigal child would return?
Or I stuffed it down really deep – and I mean really fucking deep – and let it out later. I let out the stress, if not the anger, through medicating myself when I was an addict, or when I was a bouncer I’d take it out on whomever I determined needed it. There’s not a club I worked at where I wasn’t told that I needed to “take it a little easier” on people, and I worked at no fewer than six clubs. The anger manifested itself in my language (it still does from time to time). I stewed. I fumed. I plotted revenge, mayhem and death, but ultimately never acted on it, thereby adding my already profound sense of impotence, thereby worsening the cycle. Revenge is mine, saith not the LORD? I will repay? Never fast enough for me, though, and never meted out in doses I could appreciate.
Later on, until recently, I took my anger out in whatever object might be close at hand.

Gun parts, computer printers, flashlights, doors (at home and at work), a shovel, pictures of loved ones, shelving units, a concrete birdbath, office equipment and furniture, a bedroom wall, glasses, jars, plates, a $300 vacuum cleaner, an entire bedroom of furniture, $500 worth of paintball gear – all destroyed in fits of rage.

Oh – and one marriage, too - the one I promised God if He was gracious enough to give me I promised not to screw up.

I’d seethe & vent and rant and speak bitterly, harshly to my wife; condescendingly and viciously, angrily, coldly – not at all like Christ speaks to us. And man – I just couldn’t make it stop. I felt like that once a button had been pushed, there was no stopping it, there was absolutely no turning it off, no diffusing it, no matter how hard or desperately I tried to turn it, redirect it, snuff it out, take it captive in the name of Christ – nothing. Do you get this? Nothing, man. And it would build and build and build until I would swear before Almighty God I had to break something or hit somebody or I wouldn’t survive. And since I knew that hitting my wife wasn’t an option, I would choose something inanimate to destroy, sometimes with a thin thread of logic, or sometimes out of convenience, and the destruction would continue until the adrenaline would wear off, fatigue would set in and I was too tired to go on.

In later weeks, after abandoning pastoral counseling for professional, I would learn that a frequent trigger for some (but not all) of these rages was an underlying sense of helplessness, the sense that I was powerless to act or rectify the situation at hand. But through acting out in anger, I felt powerful; I felt that oh so necessary release, and I felt like I was by-God doing something. I was acting, I wasn't merely standing by and letting things happen to me, I was fucking doing something about it. Anything – to alleviate that sense of helplessness and powerlessness, usually with little or no clear memory of what occured while I was raging, and no thought to the consequences, or whom I was hurting.

I wasn’t always like this, man – or maybe I was. I internalized a LOT of anger when I was a kid, as a teen. I swallowed a lot of rage along the way, thinking that it was the Right Thing To Do, and it was What Jesus Would Do. Jesus never lashed out (except at the money changers in the temple, but never at those who persecuted Him.) Stephen, who was being stoned, for God’s sake (ha – get it?) asked God to forgive the people stoning him, so who was *I* to stick up for myself when THEY weren’t doing it? And man – I took this to heart in a big way. It became my way of dealing with bullies, other kids, eventually other adults, and hey – eventually, my first wife. How Christ-like was that, huh?
Today it became clear to me that I let a lot of that emotion out through medicating, or acting out in my addiction. While I rarely, if ever, used it to cope with anger directly, I know the acting out and medicating took a lot of the stress away. I think I learned that somewhere in high school; how the release helped; helped me cope, helped me relax, helped me see more clearly, gain perspective, feel better – everything medicating should do, but doesn’t – not really, not for long, and then it’s time to medicate again.

In a way, it was probably a good thing I was an addict. It probably took enough stress off of me to let me survive, to cope, to keep from killing myself or somebody else. It’s sad, but I don’t think it’s completely untrue. It was the only outlet I really had, albeit a secret, unhealthy and ultimately detrimental one. But it let me cope, and that’s something, especially when I had no other way to cope. You know what the difference is between me and those school shooters in Colorado, Arkansas and California? Not much, man – it could have been me. It could have been me. You guys can probably thank the Holy Spirit for that one.

So what do I do now? I tend to run a lot more than I used to. A few weeks ago I walked six miles to bleed off the anger. I do pushups, sit-ups, jumping jacks and stretch. I play softball, and when I play softball I don’t think about anything – I just play. I don’t know if or when I’ll play paintball again – I have some stuff I’ll have to replace first. I also read a lot more, too. I pick up used books at garage sales and read them. I think I’ve read five novels in the past three weeks. Reading helps.

I make it a point NOT to yell at my wife, and to disengage and leave when I get angry. I don’t think I’m as angry as I used to be, but odds are it’s still there someplace, lurking. Hiding. Waiting. So I watch for it, and *I* wait.

So, I don’t know much else to write. I know I’m “better” now than I was when I first started counseling. I’m not sure what the point was of this, really, other than to perhaps solidify what I did in response to those feelings. I know I internalized them, buried them, and medicated them through acting out o through rage. I guess the next part is figuring out what I can do instead of doing those things. I guess anything is an improvement, huh?

OK – I think that’s enough for now. Have a cat.

Hah - that's contextually much creepier than I meant it to be. Sorry for the unfortunate choice.

My problem (with prayer)

So today Toni and I were discussing my problem with prayer. I am unsure if it's a theological problem, a lack of faith, an inability to understand, difficulty conceptualizing, ignorance, or all of the above.

Basically, it goes something like this:

I know God is not a vending machine.
I know God is sovereign.
I know God has a Divine will.
I know God has a Divine plan for my life.
I know God loves me.
I know God has done great things for me.
I know God protects me.
I know His will is not something I can change, manipulate or alter.

I know these things both emotionally & intellectually - no problem there.

My problem is this: If God is not a vending machine, if he is sovereign, with a divine will, a plan for my life, loves me, and whose will cannot be changed, manipulated or altered, then what is the point of praying?

I  can't fathom how asking Him for things I want means much; I have a pretty long list of things I wanted but didn't get for one reason or another. I know the Bible says these two things:

A) "You do not receive because you do not ask."
B) "Do not worry, but in everything, with thanksgiving and petition, present your needs, wants, desires, requests, etc. to God...."

But if God already knows what He's going to give us regardless of whether we ask for it or not, what's the point of asking for anything? I feel like He's already made up His mind, so there's no point in asking. What am I going to do - change God's mind?

I get praying for wisdom, discernment, to know His will, and praying for revelation of how I can be a part of it to further His kingdom and His glory, etc - I get that, I really do.

It's things like praying for broken relationships to mend, or for my financial problems to end, or for healing for a loved one or a friend - things I REALLY want - and yet God seems strangely silent, or He just flat-out says "no", which is NOT what I wanted.

So, if we're supposed to pray for what we want - and I mean really want - what's the point of it when you can't go against God's predestinied will for our lives? I don't understand why God asks us to pray for what we want when, clearly, what we want doesn't seem to matter to Him.

And what of when I pray for our basic needs to be met, or something that's clearly within His will, and he says "no"? In what way does that strenghten our faith or bring me closer to Him? Truthfully, I feel like it makes me view Him as more detached, distant & ambivalent to me and my family, and what we want - especially when what we want coincides with our needs, as can be the case on occasion.

(As as aside, I know the difference between a "want" and a "need", so don't bother pointing that out.)

Anyway, the end result for me is that I don't have much faith that my praying to God makes much of a difference. if God is going to do what He's going to do - what's the point of asking, especially if He already knows anyway, and has His own agenda?

Anyway, that's why I pray, but generally without much conviction - instead a I have a vague and general hope that God might throw me a bone, but that it's really unlikely, and I don't want to feel that way. I feel like my prayers are fairly useless, both to me from a practical standpoint as well as a spiritual one, and that they are to God because He sees through my lack of faith about it, and I don't know how to reconcile all of that in a way that I comprehend on both an emotional AND intellectual level that's in any way satisfactory enough for me to have more faith in prayer, and I don't want to feel that way.

And - my therapist seemt to think that my continuing rage problem seems to stem from a core belief of helpless, and that I'm still grieving for several aspects of my divorce. Nothing new to you guys, I'm sure - I just thought I'd keep you guys posted.

Thoughts on the prayer thing?

Have a cat.

Sorry - it was just too much

A few things, because I can't keep my trap shut.

A) I was reminded of how God loves us when I had to over the fence and get my cat so he could come back inside without the dog chewing on him. When I pick him up and hold him, he knows that Scout isn't going to torment him or bite on him, and he relaxes and purrs while I put him inside. I figure God is kind of like that, albeit on a much bigger scale. I wish I could relax like that and trust God that much. That's nex week's therapy session, by the way.

B) I do not like East Texas collectively, for the following reasons.

#1) The roads are not clearly labeled.
#2) There are few (if any) house numbers.
#3) Van Zandt county causes my GPS unit to lie arbitrarily.
#4) Wills Point harbors a disproportionate number of unfriendly people.
#5) Cell phone coverage is sporadic.
#6) Trespassing must be a terrible problem because everybody has a "No Trespassing" sign.

*** BONUS REASON ***

 Residents of East Texas are WAAAAAYYYYYY too quick to pull guns on me and WAAAAAAAAYYYY to slow to listen to my explanation.This would not be as uncomfortable if they had better trigger discipline and did NOT have their finger on the trigger while attempting to engage me in relatively one-sided conversation. It's distracting.

On a related note, I love Oak Cliff and Cockrell Hill. Nice folks. Lots of gates. Also chickens.

We took our daughter riding over the weekend. It was her second time on a horse and she did great. Here's a few pics.....

And here's a short video.

There is also a video of me on a horse, which isn't too terribly interesting until the last fifteen seconds where I experienced my first time being bucked by a horse. apparently, I can get a horse to turn left, turn right, stop, walk, trot and then gallop acceptably well, but getting him to stop running towards the barn was beyond my scope of expertise. I would like to note that I did NOT fall from the horse, and I was able to regain control over said horse, but evidently my horsemanship needs a little work.

It was too tough to give this up. I just needed a few days off, I think. Have a cat.

Ahhhhh..it feels good to write again.  Thanks, Brando.

Man - I'll be straight with you guys.

I don't know if I'm going to continue blogging. I hate to think you guys check back here with any regularity to see, well....nothing.

Facts are, I'm too busy. I generally get up at 5:30 AM to be at the first house at dawn, and by about 9 I'm really tired. I now tell my problems to a real therapist, and it's nothing worth posting here. I don't have any drama to work through, and my wife and kid are fine. Our Advocare business is expanding nicely, I have a "real" job, Toni is working at getting on at a hospital, I've lost almost 30 lbs and am cycling & running with regularity. Our daughter is doing great.

I guess that's it, man. I just hated to quit writing entirely without "signing off" in some way, ya know?

If I pick this up again I'll let you cats know. If you're not my friend on Facebook, please find me:

Ian Scott:  Flower Mound, Texas USA

The last thing in the world I want to do is ditch the folks that might like reading and lose that connection entirely. I hope to see you guys soon.

-Ian